Come Home
by peski0piksi
Summary: AU. Prim isn't reaped, but Peeta is. Katniss goes to see him before he leaves to say thank you, fluffiness ensues.
1. Chapter 1

It's Reaping Day. Prim's first, and I can feel her hand trembling in mine as I lead her into the square. She only has her name in once, which makes her as safe as she can be, but Prim's not stupid. She knows that one is all it takes, and there isn't really such a thing as "safe" when it comes to the Reaping and the Hunger Games. Still, though, I'm counting on the odds being in her favor today.

I lead her to the section of the square reserved for the twelve-year olds and give her one last reassuring squeeze.

"You'll be fine, Prim. Be brave," I say, and kiss the top of her head. "I'll come find you after."

She just nods at me mutely, and I can see the tears she's fighting to hold back shimmering in her eyes. It kills me that I can't protect her from this. I can protect her from starvation, cold, and schoolyard bullies, but not this. I hate hate hate feeling so powerless. It's moments like these that make my hatred for the Capitol burn bright. But there's nothing I can do.

Resigned, I make my way over to my fellow sixteen-year olds. A few of us give each other terse nods, but other than that we are silent. This is not a day for idle chit-chat.

The clock strikes two and Mayor Undersee stands to give us the history of Panem, which we've all heard countless times before. Then he reads the list of past District Twelve victors, which consists of two whole names. Only one is still living—Haymitch Abernathy, who is not only our sole surviving Victor, but also the town drunk. At present he is lolling drunkenly in his chair on stage, and he waves his hand lazily in response to the scattered applause.

Then Effie Trinket, a ridiculous woman from the Capitol who wears a bright pink wig and shoes I can't believe she can actually walk in, takes the stage. It's time to draw the names of the tributes, and my body grows tenser.

As always, it's "ladies first!" Before I really have time to hope for my and Prim's safety, Effie Trinket is calling out "Oriana Kimmar!" I feel my shoulders relax before it hits me—little Ana Kimmar is one of Prim's friends from school. She's only twelve! An unsettled murmur rises from the crowd as Ana makes her way to the stage.

Ana is a Seam girl like me—dark hair, grey eyes, and a small skinny body that has never had quite enough food. Despite her diminutive size, though, she stands straight and unblinking beside Effie as the call for volunteers goes out. To nobody's surprise, no one speaks up. Ana is the oldest in her family, and even if she weren't, well, District Twelve never has volunteers. Who would volunteer for almost certain death?

I look back over my shoulder to see that Prim is crying quietly. These games are going to be especially hard for her—it's the first time she'll be watching someone she knows personally. And probably not the last.

Now it is time for the boy's name to be called. I find my friend, Gale Hawthorne, in the crowd ahead where he is standing with the other eighteen-year olds. I fear greatly for him—his name is in there 42 times. But he's eighteen—if he can just get through today he'll be safe. He glances back at me briefly as Effie crosses the stage and I give him what I hope is an encouraging smile before he turns back around.

Effie reaches into the bowl and pulls out a slip of paper. She crosses back to the microphone, and I hear her voice call out the name, "Peeta Mellark."

My heart sinks.

_No_, I think. _Not him!_

I have never actually spoken to Peeta Mellark, but I owe him a debt I will never be able to repay. He saved my life once, and I have never thanked him. I've always meant to do it, someday, but it never seemed the right time. Now I'll never get the chance.

I watch as Peeta slowly climbs the steps up to the stage. He looks shocked, but like Ana he manages to keep his composure. Again Effie calls for volunteers and again is met with silence. I know Peeta has two older brothers, and at least one of them is eligible to volunteer, but nobody expects it of him. Including Peeta himself, I am sure.

The Mayor comes back to the microphone and starts reading the dreary Treaty of Treason. I can't help watching Peeta as he stands there, doomed. I notice that his eyes are moving around rapidly as though he is searching for a particular face in the crowd. His brothers, maybe, or his father. Certainly it can't be his witch of a mother.

The Mayor finishes his reading and motions for Peeta and Ana to shake hands. As they do so, the anthem of Panem starts to play. I can see that Peeta is still searching the crowd, and then just as the anthem finishes and the Peacekeepers move to take the tributes into custody, his eyes lock onto mine. It only lasts for a second, because one of the Peacekeepers puts his hand on Peeta's shoulder and turns him around, leading him into the Justice Building behind.

And that's it—that is the last time I will ever see Peeta Mellark in person.

The Reaping is over now and we are free to go. Prim comes running through the crowd to me, still crying. She throws herself into my arms and I try to comfort her as best I can. I feel bad for Ana, of course, and her family, too, but mostly I just feel relief that it wasn't Prim, and guilt for feeling that way. I hold my sister even tighter to me.

I look over Prim's shoulder and see Gale approaching with his little brother Rory in tow. It was Rory's first Reaping, too, and I notice he looks a little pale. I know Gale had been as worried about him as I was about Prim. It has been a lucky day for us Everdeens and Hawthornes. We have another whole year together before we have to worry again, and Gale is safe from the Hunger Games forever.

Somehow, though, I do not feel as happy as I ought to.

The four of us walk over to where the rest of our families are waiting. Prim hugs our mother tightly, while Gale and Rory are both engulfed by their own mother and two younger siblings. I stand somewhat awkwardly to the side until my mother detaches herself from Prim and comes to embrace me briefly. I return the hug awkwardly—not wanting to reject her but still feeling uncomfortable accepting her affection.

"Come on," she says. "Let's go home."

We all join the throngs of people filing through the streets on the way back to the Seam. Mom and Hazelle Hawthorne are talking quietly, planning our families' usual celebratory dinner together that evening. Gale has his baby sister Posy on his shoulders as he walks beside me. Prim and Rory have paired off, and I know they are talking about Ana. As usual, Vick Hawthorne, the youngest Hawthorne son, is walking alone, lost in his own little world.

Gale is talking to me—something about Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy, but I can't concentrate on his words. I can't stop thinking about Peeta, and the debt I owe him, and the look on his face when our eyes had met for that one moment. I know I will never forgive myself for never having at least said thank you. We are almost halfway home when it dawns on me that maybe I can still have one last chance if I can only find the courage.

I stop in my tracks and everyone turns to look at me.

"I have to…" I say, gesturing over my shoulder, and then I realize I don't have time to explain. "You guys go ahead. I'll catch up later," I say, and then I turn and start in the other direction.

"Katniss!" I hear Gale call after me, but I pretend I don't hear him as I start to run. I can only hope I'm not too late.

By the time I make it back to the square it's almost completely deserted. I'm almost to the Justice Building when the front door opens, and out comes Peeta's family. Mrs. Mellark is first, her face stony as she ignores my presence. Next comes Mr. Mellark, the baker, with his arms around the shoulders of his two oldest sons. All three of them have tears in their eyes. They have just said goodbye to Peeta for the last time.

I freeze, not knowing what to say or do, but Mr. Mellark is the only one to even notice me standing there. He simply gives me a small, sad smile and a nod, which I return.

Then they are gone around the corner and I realize the clock is still ticking. I hurry up the steps and through the door. I find myself in a long hallway which is empty except for two pairs of Peacekeepers standing in front of a door on either side. I recognize the Peacekeeper standing closest to me on the left. His name is Darius, and he's one of my best customers at the Hob. I'd almost call him a friend if it weren't for the uniform he wears.

"Darius," I say, out of breath. "I need to see Peeta Mellark. Is there still time? Where is he?"

"Sorry, Katniss," Darius says. "He's in here, but he's got a group of friends visiting him, and unless they leave really soon, you're not going to have time. We've got to get him leaving for the train at precisely 3:30."

I check the clock hanging over a door at the other end of the hallway. There's eight minutes left.

"Can I wait?"

Darius shrugs.

"Suit yourself."

I make my way over to a bench and sit down to wait. I watch the clock constantly, my knee bouncing nervously and my mouth chewing away at my nails. I try to think out what I'm going to say to Peeta, but my brain is so muddled I eventually decide to just figure it out when I get in there.

Finally, when there are only four minutes left, the door behind Darius and his partner opens. I spring to my feet and watch as three teenage boys come out. They're Peeta's friends—I recognize them from school. None of them even glance my way as they file silently down the hallway and out the front door.

I rush up to Darius, silently asking for entrance, but he looks dubious.

"Katniss, no…there's only a few minutes left. There's not time."

"Darius, _please_."

Darius glances at his partner, who shrugs with indifference.

"All right," he relents, looking back at me. "You can go in. But you get three minutes and that's _it_, do you understand? It'll be my hide if you stay any longer than that."

"I understand. That's all I need. Thank you," I say quickly. We're wasting time, here.

Darius reaches out to open the door for me. I take a deep breath and walk inside.

* * *

After my friends leave, I wander over to the window. Soon I'm going to be leaving District Twelve forever, and I want to imprint as much of it in my mind as possible. Unfortunately, the view from this window is rather bleak—I'm staring out over the dusty town square, surrounded by empty, bare merchants' shops. The sky above is blue and empty. Everything is empty, including me.

I don't want to die. I'm only sixteen—I have so many things I still want to do in this life. But it seems that like with so many things, I'm not going to have a choice in the matter. There's no way I can win—I know that. I'm strong, but other than that I have nothing. The kids from the lower districts—the Careers—have been training their entire lives for this. I don't stand a chance.

I'm not sure I even would want to win if I could. To kill other children? I'm not sure I'll be able to do it, or live with it afterwards if I could. Look at Haymitch Abernathy—I'm pretty sure he doesn't drink like that for no reason. And what's to come back for, really, that would make it worth it? My family doesn't need me. My mother, I suspect, outright dislikes me, and my father, as much as I know he loves me, has two other sons to carry on the family business and name. There's nobody who needs me.

I think of Katniss and feel a pang of regret. She doesn't need me. She doesn't even know me. But she's the one person I really wish did. I should have told her sooner. Now I'll never…but at least I got to look at her one last time, even if it was only for a second.

My thoughts are interrupted by the opening of the door. I'm expecting a Peacekeeper coming to escort me to the train, so it's no surprise my mouth falls open with shock when I see who it is standing there.

"Three minutes," the Peacekeeper behind her says sternly, and then closes the door.

I can't believe it—Katniss Everdeen has come to see me. I didn't even think she knew I existed. And now I have exactly three minutes to work up the courage to tell her I love her. This is my last chance, and I'm lucky to have it.

"Hi," she says. She seems nervous.

I realize I'm just standing there with my mouth hanging open. I shut it quickly and force my feet to move, coming to stand a few feet away from her in the center of the room. Even under these circumstances I can't help but admire her beauty. She's wearing a blue dress—I hardly ever get to see her in a dress. Instead of her usual single long braid, her hair is coiled up at the back of her head. Just once I wish I could have gotten to see it hanging loose. But her grey eyes are the same as ever…breathtaking.

"Hi," I say.

There. The first words ever spoken between us. I wait for her to continue—she must have come for a reason.

"I know this must seem weird," she says awkwardly. "But there's something I needed to tell you before you…go. I'm Katniss Everdeen, by the way."

For the first time since Effie Trinket called out my name, I honestly want to laugh. If she only knew!

"I know," I say simply, containing my mirth. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Um, I just wanted to say thank you. For the bread when we were kids. You probably don't remember…"

"I remember," I interrupt quickly. Like I could ever forget. It was only one of the defining moments of my life, that's all.

"Well," says Katniss. "I had to come and tell you now…I just thought, maybe it would help if you knew…you saved our lives that day."

"Really?" I ask doubtfully. It had only been a couple loaves of bread. Burnt bread, at that.

"Yes," she nods. "That bread…it gave me the strength to remember the things my father had taught me…how to gather plants for food, how to hunt. It gave me hope."

I can feel my heart swelling at her words. I had never known I'd had such an impact on her life. At least I'll have this to cling to in the days to come.

"I'm glad," I say. "Thank you for telling me that."

"I should have thanked you sooner. I don't know why I didn't…."

"No," I say. "You didn't need to thank me. I never expected that."

"But I'll never be able to repay you now."

"You just did," I say. "Just by coming here today."

Katniss nods and looks down at her feet. "I wish I could do more," she says softly. Then, "I guess I better go…"

"No, wait! Please."

I can't let her go yet. Not yet. I need to tell her. She turns back to look at me.

"I have something I wanted to tell you, too," I say.

"Really?" I see confusion in her eyes. No wonder—when she came in here she didn't even think I knew her name. Wait until she hears what I have to say next. If I can work up the nerve, that is…

"Yes," I say. "Katniss, I…"

The words stick in my throat and I want to scream with frustration.

_Say it!_ I tell myself. _It doesn't matter what she says or what she thinks—you'll be dead in a few days either way and at least it will be one less regret to die with…this is your last chance!_

The silence stretches out and now Katniss is looking at me strangely. Time is running out.

_Say it, dammit!_

"Katniss, I…I love you."

I'm so relieved to have finally gotten the words out that for a moment I forget to watch for her reaction. When I do look all I see is shock.

"What?" she practically whispers, her grey eyes wide.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I know it's out of the blue. I never meant for it to be this way, but I just needed you to know…once…before I die."

"Peeta…I don't…I don't know what to say," she stammers. "We don't even know each other."

"I know," I say, disappointed despite all common sense. "You don't have to say anything. I know you better than you'd think, but I also know that's going to be hard for you to understand. But I just needed to get it out there."

She nods, and I expect her to say goodbye and leave then, but she doesn't. Instead she just looks at me thoughtfully. We stand there in silence for a few moments, and then I can see on her face that she's come to some kind of decision. Now it's her turn to shock me.

"Peeta, come here," she says quietly and takes a step forward.

"What?" I stammer, unnerved by her proximity.

"Come here," she says again but by this time her command is useless because she's standing inches in front of me now. My heart stops and then all of a sudden her lips are on mine.

The kiss is chaste, sweet—our lips are the only things touching. I close my eyes, determined to treasure every moment. Her lips are soft, and she smells heavenly, just like I always knew she would.

Suddenly she's already pulling away. It's too fast—it can't be over yet! Without thinking I reach up to cup her face and gently pull her back. To my surprise she doesn't resist. Our lips meet again, and this time I am ready. I press my lips more firmly to hers, and when our mouths open I could swear it was like she was melting into me. I wrap my arms around her and hold her as close to me as I can. Her arms come up around my neck; her hands are in my hair.

I pour everything into this kiss—all the years of watching and yearning and wanting. I try to make her understand how much I love her—how much I wish things could be different, that we had more time. This one kiss has to make up for the lifetime of kisses I had wanted to share with her.

Somewhere in the background I hear the door open and someone clears his throat. I just tighten my arms around Katniss again and ignore it.

_Not yet. Just a little longer. Please._

"Come on, guys. Three minutes is up. Time to go."

Now I expect Katniss to pull herself away, but she doesn't—she just goes on kissing me. I think I'm in heaven.

But then they are tearing her away from me. We try to hold on to one another, but they are too strong. One of the Peacekeepers pries her fingers from my hands while the other grabs her around the waist and lifts her up and away.

I know it's pointless to resist, but my heart is breaking. I follow as close as I can as they carry her across the room. Katniss is still struggling against them, her eyes locked on mine.

"Peeta!" she cries. "Promise me!"

"Anything," I tell her quickly.

They're at the door now, and Katniss grabs onto the doorframe. One of the Peacekeepers starts working to pry her fingers loose again.

"Dammit, Darius!" she yells. "Peeta, come home! Do you hear me?"

Her fingers are loose now, and they're pulling her back.

"Promise me you'll come home!" I hear her say one last time before the door slams shut between us.

I _cannot_ believe that just happened.

* * *

**AN: Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

What the hell just happened?

I'm standing in the main hallway of the Justice Building, trying to catch my breath while four Peacekeepers are staring at me in amazement.

"Katniss, what _was_ that?" asks Darius.

"I don't…I don't know. I'm sorry," I say lamely. I can't think. My brain doesn't seem to be functioning properly.

"Well, you better go ahead and get out of here, he says, gesturing to the main door. "We're behind schedule now."

"Okay," I say, nodding. Before I go, though, I need to make one last request.

"Darius, please don't tell anyone…" By anyone, I mean Gale, and I'm sure Darius knows that.

"Don't worry," he says, shooing me away with his hands. "Just go! Now, before I have to arrest you."

Needing no further encouragement, I turn and almost run out the door. Now I don't know what to do with myself. I need to find someplace to think, to figure out what just happened. The forest is not an option—there are just too many non-District Twelve Peacekeepers in residence today due to the Reaping. The Meadow is out, too—it's too likely to be playing host to celebrating families having a picnic on a nice day like this.

I head for the only place I can think of—Victor's Village. Its sole resident, Haymitch Abernathy, is currently sitting on a train bound for the Capitol, so it's sure to be empty. I know my family and Gale will be waiting for me, waondering where I've gone, but I don't care. They know I can take care of myself, and I'll tell them I needed a walk. I'll be home for dinner, and they'll have to be satisfied with that.

My steps are quick—I want to get there before I run into somebody I know. I don't want to talk, I just want to think. Think, and maybe relive that kiss a little bit. That was my first kiss ever, and boy, was it a doozy! I mean, I don't have any basis for comparison, but…wow.

When I finally get there I sink down onto a bench in the square of Victor's Village, ignoring the enormous houses around me. I pull my knees up to my chest and remember.

I hadn't gone in there with any of that in mind—how could I have? I didn't think he even knew me except as maybe a familiar face from the hallways at school, maybe even as the girl he gave bread to once, but not as the girl he _loved_.

No, I had simply wanted to ease my own conscience by finally saying thank you, and to maybe make his coming death a fraction easier by letting him know that, as short as it was, his life had made a huge difference to me and mine.

When he told me he loved me, I didn't really believe him. A crush, maybe that I could buy. But love? No way. For one thing, I'm pretty unlovable to those who aren't my friends and family—anyone could tell you that. For another, Peeta and I had never even spoken. How can you love someone you've never had a conversation with? It was absurd.

But I was still looking for a way to make things even between us, and once I got over the shock of his confession, it gave me an idea. There was one thing left I could still give him—a kiss. It would be my first, which in my eyes was not something to be given away lightly. In fact, I had never really planned on giving it away to anybody at all. But in that moment I had wanted Peeta to have it, I don't really know why. Maybe because of the debt I still owed him, maybe because it seemed so stingy not to give such a simple thing to a dying man.

So I had kissed him before I could lose my nerve. It was meant to be brief, but Peeta had pulled me back and I had let him and then…wow.

Despite the warmth of the day, I feel a shiver run up my spine at the memory. The way he had kissed me…the way he had _held_ me…maybe it wasn't just a crush, after all. I can feel my cheeks turn red with heat. I hide my face in my hands, glad there's no one there to see me.

I suddenly realize I'm acting like one of those silly girls at school—the ones who collapse into a fit of giggles every time a boy so much as looks at them. The girls who I usually have such contempt for. Maybe I have a little bit more understanding of them now. If a boy can make you feel like _that_…

And then it all comes crashing down on me. What am I _doing_? Daydreaming about a boy I hardly know—a boy who I'm never going to see again. A boy who has just been sent to the slaughter. I must be crazy.

One great kiss does not a relationship make, I remind myself. Peeta Mellark means nothing to me. Not really. And thank goodness, because if he did I'd be devastated right now. This situation, right here—this is exactly why I've always sworn I would never fall in love. You give your heart away and all that's going to happen is that it's going to get broken.

I told him to come home. Basically told him to come home to _me_. Why had I done that? Now he's going to think…but it doesn't matter. He's not coming home—everybody knows that.

_What if he does?_ The question niggles in the back of my head.

_He won't,_ I tell myself fiercely. No point in thinking of what-ifs. I just don't live in that kind of world.

Determined to put the whole business out of my mind, I stand up and head for home.

* * *

I can't sleep. It's the night after the Reaping, and I'm on a train that's hurtling me towards the Capitol. I should be sleeping—Effie Trinket has assured me and Ana that tomorrow's going to be a 'big, big, big day!' But my brain is hyped up with all the things I have to think about—sleep would be next to impossible at this point.

Sadly, even though I know it should be low on my list of priorities, below at least my family and game strategy, the main thing I keep thinking about is Katniss and that kiss we shared. And even more than that, her last words to me. She told me to come home, but what did she mean by that? In the heat of the moment it had been all too easy to believe she meant she wanted me to come home to her, that she returned my feelings. Now that there is some time and distance between us, though, I'm not nearly so sure.

Was everything that happened between us in that room just her taking pity on me? Or was it real? Or maybe a bit of both? It's so hard to know—my heart keeps getting in the way of my logic. I desperately want it to have been real, but common sense tells me that it probably wasn't.

But then I think about that kiss. I've been dreaming about kissing Katniss for years, and that kiss blew all of my imaginings out of the water. She couldn't have faked that, right? Nobody could. So what does that mean?

It dawns on me that I'm never going to get any answers to these questions. Katniss is the only one who could ever answer them, and she's back at home in District Twelve. I'm never going to speak to her again.

_Unless you win the Hunger Games._

Suddenly everything has shifted. Up to this point I had pretty much given myself up for lost. Now I have a reason to make winning worthwhile. Now I have something to go home for.

I have to win, or literally die trying. Whatever it takes, I have to get home to Katniss.

* * *

**AN: Holy Moley, people! Almost 30 reviews just for the first chapter? That's crazy awesome. I am really, really, flattered.**

**Sorry this chapter is so short, I am suffering from a common malady known as writer's block, trying to decide how detailed I want to get with the Games, etc. I know exactly where I want to end this, just not sure how many stops to make along the way!**

**Also, my birthday is Monday, so if any of you want to give me an early present you could always leave a review. Just sayin'. Also, no, I'm not going to tell you how old I am. ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

"It's you, isn't it?" asks Gale.

It's early morning, and the two of us are hunting in the forest outside the fence. We've been keeping our customary silence for about the last hour, so his voice gives me a jolt when the question comes out of nowhere. I know exactly what he's referring to, but I decide to play dumb.

"What's me?" I ask casually, continuing to scan the forest for prey, my bow ready.

"Come on, Katniss," he says, and I realize he's stopped walking behind me, so I turn to face him. "You know what I'm talking about. Peeta Mellark."

"What about him?"

"You're the one he was talking about, aren't you? The girl waiting for him back home."

It's been two weeks since the Reaping, and Peeta is still alive. Alive, and occupying far too much of my thoughts.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Gale," I lie. "I barely know Peeta."

"I'm not stupid, Katniss," Gale says. "First you rush off after the Reaping without explanation, then when you finally come home you're acting all weird and distracted, and you've been like that ever since. I've never seen you so interested in the games before. And to top it all off, Darius keeps looking like the cat that ate the canary whenever you're around, and you've been shooting death glares back at him like I've never seen before."

"You're exaggerating," I try, but he's not to be put off.

"I couldn't figure out what was going on until a couple of nights ago, but then it all came clear when he made his little speech. He was talking about you, right?"

"No…" I trail off, but it's obvious I'm lying.

"No? Tell me where you went after the Reaping, then."

My mouth gapes as I rack my brain for an alternate explanation. Finally I give up.

"Fine," I say, looking away to avoid his grin of triumph. "Yes, it was me he was talking about. I think."

"You think?"

"Well, he didn't give a name, did he?"

Gale is laughing now.

"Oh, Katniss, come on! How many possibilities are there?"

I sigh.

"Okay, whatever. Yes, yes, it was me."

If Peeta was standing here right now, I swear I would kill him. I mean, I know he didn't do it on purpose. I don't think. But still…

It had happened two nights ago, when Peeta had been holed up in a cave with his little ally, Rue. Rue was from District Eleven, and she was twelve. She was small and quick, and she reminded me a lot of Prim. Most people in the District had been baffled when he chose to befriend her, but I thought I understood his motives. For one thing, Rue was no slouch in the survival department—she knew how to find food, and she could fly through the tree canopy like a bird, jumping from tree to tree. More importantly, I think, he was trying to make up for not being able to save Ana.

Ana had died in the first minute of the game—she simply hadn't been quick enough, and had had the bad fortune to be standing on a launch pad right next to the brutal Career from District Two, Cato. He had snapped her neck like it was nothing. Peeta, who had made a beeline for her the minute the gong went off, saw it happen even as he ran. The expression on his face had been heartbreaking as he called out her name. The next second he was barreling into Cato. He knocked him to the ground, and the two of them had wrestled for control. Miraculously, it had ended with Peeta pinning Cato, a knife he had recovered from the many scattering the ground around the Cornucopia held to the Career's neck. And then he froze.

It would have been so simple to push the knife in—to take out the biggest threat in the Game early on. But something stopped him. We could all see the struggle on his face—he knew he should do it, but his innate decency and sense of morality wouldn't allow it. He ended up punching Cato hard enough to break his nose, and then he had made a run for it, grabbing a pack and a spear as he went.

That night when Ana's face appeared in the sky, the Gamemakers had been sure to show us a close-up of Peeta's devastated face. He had wanted to protect her and had failed.

So when Rue had tentatively approached him for an alliance, he had welcomed her gladly, and they became fast friends. I suspect Rue has a little crush on Peeta, which led them into the conversation that has caused all this trouble in the first place. It was in the dark, and they had been whispering to try to keep their words private, but the Capitol had helpfully provided subtitles so we could all understand what they were saying.

"_Peeta, do you have a girlfriend?"_

_Peeta laughs softly._

"_No, not really."_

"_What do you mean, 'not really'?"_

"_It's complicated."_

"_Why?"_

"_Well, there is a girl I like, but I'm not sure how she feels about me."_

"_Does she know you like her?"_

_Peeta nods._

"_I told her right before I left."_

"_What did she say?"_

"_She kissed me."_

"_Well, then…duh, she must like you."_

"_Maybe. Or maybe she was just being nice."_

"_No way. I think she likes you. What's her name?"_

_Silence, and then, "I think I'd rather not say. I don't want to cause trouble for her if I don't make it home."_

"_Well, what's she like?"_

"_Come on, Rue. You don't really want to hear all this, do you?"_

"_Yes I do! It's so romantic! Tell me—is she beautiful?"_

"_Of course."_

"_Is she sweet?"_

_A moment of hesitation._

"_Yes, she can be."_

"_What else? Tell me, Peeta!"_

_A gusty sigh._

"_Fine. She's beautiful. She's smart. She's strong. She's kind. She's loving. And when she sings, the birds stop to listen. Enough for you, Ms. Nosy Pants?"_

_A giggle._

"_I guess so. I bet when you go home she'll be right there at the station, waiting for you. Don't you think?"_

"_What I think is that you're still very young. Life just doesn't work that way."_

"_Sometimes it does. It has to…doesn't it?"_

"_I don't know. Maybe."_

_Silence._

"_Time for sleep, Rue. I'll take first watch."_

The Capitol has taken this one little innocent conversation and turned it into a media sensation. All of a sudden all anybody can talk about is the love-struck hero from District Twelve. Most importantly, everyone is dying to figure out who the object of his affections is.

It's been an interesting couple of days, to say the least.

The girls at school are obsessed. They keep talking about Peeta as if he's some romantic god or something. They go on and on about how cute he is, how they love his blue eyes, and how jealous they are of the mystery girl. They say all this freely in front of me—I'm sure I'm the last person anybody suspects. The loner Seam girl with the handsome, popular Merchant's son? No way! The way they talk about him makes me feel weird. I find myself getting angry at them, but I don't know why. It's almost as if I'm feeling _possessive_ of Peeta. Which is ridiculous, of course.

Watching Peeta suffer through the games has been hard enough. Watching and re-watching this scene has been nothing short of torture. Hearing exactly what Peeta feels about me is both wonderful and horrible all at the same time. In some ways, it's good to know he doubts my feelings for him—if he does somehow miraculously survive, if I decide to reject him it won't be such a shock. What baffles me is when that "if" had wormed its way in there.

"Katniss?" Gale's voice calls me back from my reverie.

"Sorry," I say. "What was the question?"

Gale laughs.

"I asked what the deal is. Do you like him? Did you really kiss him?"

I sigh. Gale is not really the first person I would have chosen to talk to about this. Not that there's ever been anything romantic between us, but I can't deny that there's always been an undercurrent of eventual expectations between us.

"I don't know, Gale," I say finally. "It's complicated."

"That's what he said. What does that mean? I didn't even know you knew Mellark."

"I don't. Not really."

Gale rolls his eyes.

"This is like pulling teeth," he says. Then he walks over to a fallen log and sits, patting the space beside him.

"Come. Sit. Talk," he says.

I hesitate for a minute before I give in. After all, who else am I going to talk to? Gale wouldn't be asking if he didn't want to know.

I start with the story of the bread, leading to the explanation why I had gone to see Peeta in the first place. This part I am sure Gale will understand. He knows about owing, and what a burden it can be for people who live the way we do.

"Okay," he says when I've finished. "So how did we get from there to the Great Romance of the Century?"

"Shut up."

"Sorry."

"You pretty much already know the rest. He told me he had feelings for me, I kissed him. That's it."

I know I'm leaving out quite a bit, but Gale doesn't need to know _everything_. Some things should remain private. Special.

"You, Miss I'm Never Falling in Love or Getting Married or Having Children, kissed _him_?"

"Well, I didn't think it would matter, Gale," I say sharply. "I had no idea he would survive even this long."

"So it was pity?"

"Yes. No. May…Oh, I don't know."

I can feel Gale looking at me carefully, and I stare at the ground, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Katniss, be careful," he says finally.

"What do you mean?" I ask, although I think I know where he's headed.

"Don't let yourself fall for someone who's going to be dead in a week."

"I know that Gale! Don't you think I know that?"

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I know. I just…I don't want to talk about this anymore," I say abruptly, standing up and walking away back down the path.

Gale follows, keeping silent for now. I am irritated with him, and it's not hard to figure out why. His advice is excellent. It's the same thing I've been telling myself over and over for the past two weeks.

The problem is, I'm afraid it's already too late.

* * *

I'm not sure what wakes me, but my eyes pop open and I am instantly wide awake. I quickly look around the cave and realize Rue is not here with me. It's the middle of the day, but still…she knows we agreed not to go out alone.

"Rue?" I call out quietly.

Silence.

I clamber out of the sleeping bag, starting to feel anxious.

Rue and I have been teamed up for ten days now, and I can't believe how fond I've gotten of the girl in such a short time. She's like the little sister I never had, and the thought that something has happened to her makes me sick to my stomach. Which is stupid, I know, considering where we are. I never should have let myself get so attached, but it's too late now.

Cautiously I leave the cave, looking around for Rue or any other Tributes who might be lurking nearby. There's nothing; just the forest and the rushing stream. I decide to wait five minutes, and if she's not back by then I'll go find her. I head down to the stream to refill my canteen.

There are five of us left now. Me and Rue, Clove and Cato from Two, and the girl from Five whose name I still haven't remembered. I haven't even seen her since the day of the launch, she's been keeping such a low profile.

I've barely reached the water when a scream pierces the air.

"PEETA!"

Rue!

I drop the canteen and run towards her voice, pausing only long enough to grab my spear. I also have a knife that I carry with me at all times. I can only hope it will be enough.

"Peeta! Help me!" she cries again as I crash through the bushes. I realize that she's not very far away, and I slow my steps instinctively, not sure what I'm going to find when I reach her.

Then I hear voices, laughter. I slow to a creep, doing my best to move without a sound, a skill Rue teasingly informs me I am sorely lacking.

Lucky for me, the two Careers who have Rue trapped up in a tree are making enough noise on their own to cover my approach. I get as near as I can, and then using a large tree trunk for cover, I assess the situation. Rue is far up, peering down at the pair below her, obviously terrified. I can't figure out why she's not pulling her trick of jumping from tree to tree, until I really look and realize that Rue has had the misfortune to choose a tree that is just distant enough from its neighbors to make jumping impossible. It's probably the only tree in this Arena like it. It seems the luck that has gotten us through thus far has finally run out.

Cato and Clove are taunting Rue, who remains silent on her perch.

"Come on down, little bird!" yells Clove. "We promise we won't hurt you! Much, anyway!" she finishes with a cackle.

"Where's your friend, Eleven?" asks Cato. "Seems he's abandoned you, doesn't it?" He makes a tsk tsk sound. "It's too bad—I have something really special in mind for him."

_I bet he does_, I think. Even from my hiding place I can see Cato's black eye and his twisted nose that must still be giving him quite a bit of pain. I feel a small bit of satisfaction at that, but really all I wish is that I'd killed him when I had the chance.

What am I going to do? There's no way I can take on them both—I'm too weak, and they're armed and much more skilled than I am. And there are two of them.

I'm still frantically searching my brain for a way out of this when Clove gets impatient.

"I'll get her out," she says, and starts throwing knives at Rue. I catch my breath—Clove has a wicked aim. Fortunately, Rue is small enough to hide completely behind the large tree trunk far above.

"Forget it, Clove," says Cato after she has lodged her fifth knife into the trunk. "I'll get her."

He immediately starts to climb.

I can't help but think that for all the Career Districts train their kids to be lethal weapons, they sure don't teach them much about common sense. Or maybe Cato and Clove were just absent that day. Either way, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that there's no way the huge, muscle-bound Cato is going to be able to reach tiny Rue who is perched way up high, nearly at the top of the tree.

Geniuses they are not. Cato is climbing determinedly, while Clove cheers him on. It occurs to me that now would be an excellent time to move in on her. She's alone, and almost all her knives are now lodged in the tree above, out of reach. She's so tiny it should be easy to take her down if I can surprise her. Then I can take Cato on man to man.

I have doubts about my ability to do this and survive—I am weakened by days and days of stress, sleep deprivation, and near starvation. But what choice do I have? In my mind I picture Katniss watching me at home. What would she think if I turned and abandoned Rue now? It would assure my survival, at least for the moment, but I would lose any chance I ever had with Katniss along with any ounce of self-respect I might have. Life wouldn't be worth living if I did that.

Besides, it's _Rue_. I've grown to love her, and there's no way I'm leaving her now.

I wait until Cato is a fair distance up the tree—far enough that it'll take him time to get down. He won't be able to just jump down and come to Clove's immediate rescue. Then I make my move. Since I know it would be futile to try, I don't even attempt to be quiet. I simply launch myself at Clove, moving as fast as I can go.

She hears me coming, but doesn't have time to react. I throw all my weight against her, and she hits the tree full force. She's knocked out before she knows what hit her.

That went a lot better than I expected, actually.

"Clove!" I hear Cato scream from above.

I look up and see him already starting his way down. Rue is watching with hopeful eyes. All I can do as I brace myself to fight him, my knife in hand, is hope I don't let her down.

"You're gonna die, Twelve! You are going to _pay_!"

Cato is sloppy in his rage, jumping from limb to limb without care, hurtling himself down the tree.

Then all hell breaks loose.

There's a loud SNAP! as Cato lands on a branch that is too small to support his weight. I watch as he starts to fall in what seems like slow motion. He's just started to scream when I notice something attached to the branch that is falling with him.

A Tracker Jacker nest.

I turn to run, and almost immediately trip over a tree root in my panic. I hear the nest hit the ground behind me, and the air is filled with a loud buzzing. I scramble to my feet to run again, but I haven't been quick enough. I can feel the stings—one, two, three. Thigh, arm, neck, they come in quick succession. I can hear Cato still screaming behind me as I pump my legs harder. I have to get away. Have to make it to the cave before the hallucinations kick in. I have to believe Rue was far up enough to avoid the ire of the Tracker Jackers. She'll find me, take care of me, if I can just make it back to our cave.

I almost make it.

The stream is in sight when the world starts to tilt, when I start to hear the voices, when I start to see things more horrible than anything I've ever imagined. I try to keep going, but I'm swaying back and forth like a drunken man on a ship that's lost in a storm. I keep hitting the trees. Or maybe they're hitting me—they keep jumping out in front of me.

I think I hear a cannon fire, then two, and I wonder if one of them is for me.

"Katniss. I'm sorry," I whisper as I fall to the ground.

Then everything goes black.

* * *

**AN: Wow, I can't believe the response this story has gotten. Thank you all so much for the reviews and alerts and favoriting. Seriously, you guys are awesome.**

**Special thanks goes out to for-prim for helping me get over the writer's block. You can all thank her for this long chapter and the quicker updates to come. She unclogged my brain for me!**

**Also, I should have mentioned this in the last chapter but I forgot. pointed out to me that the beginning of this story is a lot like the story "Reaping," by Swishy Willow Wand. (Thanks, for the heads up, !) There are a lot of similarities, but I swear nobody is copying anybody else. I've chatted with Swishy, and she was super nice—we agreed that there are only so many original ideas out there. Her story is awesome, by the way, and I highly recommend you go check it out right now.**


	4. Chapter 4

Sleep has been elusive these past few weeks. Every time I lay down in a soft warm bed, even if it is small and even if I do have to share it with Prim, I think of Peeta having to lay on the cold hard ground in the Arena and I am overwhelmed with feelings of guilt. That's not what's keeping me up tonight, though.

I've got a lot on my mind.

We were all watching earlier this evening when the confrontation came between four of the five remaining Tributes. Clove is dead—she never had a chance, since she was unconscious when the Tracker Jackers attacked. Rue is dead, too. She fell from the tree trying to fend off the attack of a couple of stray Jackers. Everyone had cried for her, but at least it happened quickly. She didn't suffer.

Peeta and Cato are both alive. Cato was stung twice. Currently he's lost in a sea of hallucinations and pain, but Claudius Templesmith has assured us that his vital signs indicate he will recover. Peeta's survival is not as certain. He took four stings, and we're told it will be eighteen to twenty hours before we know if his body will be able to fight off the effects of the venom.

The moment I heard that I knew.

Peeta has to survive. He _has_ to. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't. I need him—he belongs to me just as I belong to him and no amount of self-delusion is going to change that. I just can't believe I've had to come this close to losing him to finally realize it. Only now, when he's literally on the verge of death, do I come to my senses.

As I lay here staring at the ceiling, I know it didn't all just start with that kiss, either. No, it started with the bread. All the kiss did was make me wake up and start noticing what had been there all along. The stolen glances. The blushes. The not-really-an-accident accidental brushes in the hallways at school.

I remember what Peeta had said, about him knowing me better than I thought, and I realize I know him, too. I've been watching him as surely as he's been watching me. I know what classes he takes, who his friends are, what he's like—in public, anyway. He's kind, and funny, and an eternal optimist. And now I know he's apparently a hopeless romantic, too.

The thought makes me smile despite myself.

Watching him in the Games has only reinforced this knowledge. The way he charmed the audience in his interview, his inability to kill Cato and his anguish over Ana, his improbable friendship with Rue-all of it points to a boy who is exceedingly compassionate, moral, and _good_. Too good for me, in fact. If I was a better person I would have noticed all of this long before he was at death's door.

I've made a few feeble attempts to save myself—to retreat back into my shell where no one can touch me, but I find I don't have the strength. Pandora's Box has been opened and I'm just going to have to endure the consequences, as painful as they are probably going to be.

And the consequences are going to come swiftly, because Peeta unintentionally revealed my identity just before he lost consciousness. As far as I know, I'm the only Katniss in District Twelve. Most likely the only one in all of Panem, matter of fact. I fully expect a knock on the door first thing come morning, announcing the arrival of Capitol people there to interview me, the Sweetheart of District Twelve. I'm sure it's going to be pretty awful—I'm not exactly the bright, bubbly type that usually makes for good television. The people of the Capitol are sure to be disappointed with me.

Besides, what am I supposed to say? Confess my feelings for Peeta to the entire nation before I've even had a chance to tell _him_? It's unthinkable. Equally unthinkable is _denying_ my feelings for Peeta before the entire nation. But I can't refuse the interview, can I? I'm sure the Capitol wouldn't tolerate that.

I'm also dreading the looks I'm going to be getting everywhere. Just enduring my family's reaction was bad enough. I refused to talk about it with them, which my mother seemed to accept, but Prim is all agog, pestering me with questions and dwelling on the romance of it all. At least it's pulled her out of the funk she's been in since Ana's death.

And at least I had already talked to Gale about this—I would have hated for him to find out this way. It's funny—I had always assumed that if I were to ever change my mind about love and relationships, Gale would be the guy for me. Now I know it doesn't work that way—I didn't decide to fall for Peeta, I didn't change my mind about anything. It had just happened, and I had been powerless to stop it.

I hope Gale's going to be okay with all of this.

I glance at the clock—it's almost two in the morning. I need to sleep—I'm going to need it to get through tomorrow. But how can I sleep when Peeta is out there, possibly dying? Maybe dead, already?

My morbid thoughts are interrupted by a sudden banging at the front door, followed by a loud, deep voice announcing, "Peacekeepers, open up!"

I, Prim, and our mother all simultaneously sit straight up in bed. We stare at each other, scared.

"What do we do?" my Mom whispers, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to fly across the room and slap her. She's the adult! She should be telling _us_ what to do! As always, I am forced to take up her slack.

"We answer it," I say sharply as another loud rapping comes at the door. I swing my legs around and stand up, trying to act braver than I feel for Prim's sake. I walk into the next room, Mom and Prim following closely behind. I open the door to see two Peacekeepers standing there. I don't know either of them.

"Can I help you?" I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"We're looking for Katniss Everdeen," the one on the left says. He's the older of the two—mid-thirties, I'd guess. His partner barely looks older than me.

"I'm Katniss," I say, and I hear Prim whimper behind me. I can't blame her—I feel a bit like whimpering myself. I don't know why they've come for me, but when two Peacekeepers come calling in the middle of the night, you know it can't be for anything good.

I rack my brain for any offenses I've committed lately, and immediately come up with too many to count. Going through the fence. Poaching. Trading on the black market. Criticizing the Capitol out loud. Turning my eyes away from the most brutal scenes of the Games. It could be anything.

"You need to come with us, Miss," the Peacekeeper says.

"Where are you taking her?" Mother finally speaks up behind me.

"To Headquarters," the younger man answers.

"Don't worry, Ma'am," his partner adds quickly. "We'll have her back to you before you know it."

"Can I get dressed?" I ask. All I have on is an old pair of my dad's pajamas.

"Sorry, no time. We need to go now."

I shrug. At least I have pants on, and the night is warm.

Mom and Prim both immediately hug me like they're never going to see me again.

"It's okay," I whisper. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon." I can only hope it's not a lie.

Next thing I know I'm walking through the dark streets of the District, my official escorts on either side. None of us talk—I figure they probably don't even know why I've been summoned, and if they do they're not going to tell me, anyway. At least I'm not in handcuffs.

Yet.

Much too quickly we arrive at the Peacekeeper Headquarters in the middle of town. They walk me straight in, down a hallway and through a door into an office where a third Peacekeeper waits.

"Miss Everdeen?" he asks.

I nod.

"You have a phone call," he says, gesturing to the phone sitting in the middle of the otherwise empty desk. Then he walks out and closes the door behind him.

That's it? They drag me down here, scare me and my family half to death, for a phone call? Why didn't they just say so? A string of curses runs through my head as I pick up the handset.

"Hello," I snap.

"Is this Katniss Everdeen?" a vaguely familiar voice asks.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Hello Sweetheart. This is Haymitch Abernathy. Sorry for the late hour, but you and I need to talk."

* * *

I don't know how long it's been. Hours? Days? I don't know.

I recall the nightmares, or hallucinations, or whatever they were, with a shudder. Visions of my mother, looming over me, ten times more horrifying than she's ever been in reality. My brothers, tortured and wracked with pain, while my father turns away unwilling or unable to help. Katniss as a child, dead, her body little more than a skeleton lying abandoned in the mud and the rain. It was endless, a purgatory of helplessness.

At some point, though, the visions had gone away and I had woken to horrible physical pain. Somehow I managed to half-stumble, half-crawl my way back to the protection of the cave, where I passed out again, exhausted from the effort. More time lost.

Now the sun is going down as I lie next to the stream near the cave. I had woken with a terrible thirst and dragged myself out here, but now all I can do is rest, taking small sips from the canteen as I try to recover and make sense of it all.

I can't be sure if it was real or just another hallucination, but I remember hearing two cannons. Something within me tells me that part was real, so who were they for? One of them had to be for Clove—she would have had no defense against the Tracker Jackers, whose nest had fallen practically on top of her unconscious body. I suppose her death can be laid directly at my door, but I can't let myself think about that right now.

The other cannon, though—there are really only two possibilities, unless by some outrageous circumstance the redheaded girl from District Five had been killed at that same moment, somewhere else in the Arena. No, it had to be either Cato or Rue, and deep in my heart I know it wasn't Cato. If it had been Cato, she would be here with me now, taking care of me. I bet she'd know some remedy for these swollen, painful stings. But I'm alone and in pain, and I have been for what I'm pretty sure has been days.

Rue is dead.

When Ana died, it had been at the beginning of the Games, when I still had the strength to keep on a mask of composure. But now…now, I am weak. My body is emaciated, beaten and bruised. My mind has been tortured, my heart exhausted. I have nothing left with which to fight the grief, and I give myself over to the sobs which wrack my body. I don't care that everyone in Panem will see this and know how weak I am. I don't care that Cato might hear and come to finish me off. I just don't care.

Rue…that sweet, innocent little girl. My partner, my friend, is gone. Dead. Murdered by the Capitol, and I was as always powerless to help her.

It is nearly fully dark when the tears finally start to fade. I lay there, spent. I know I should move back to the shelter of the cave, but I can't find the energy or the desire. It is as though I've lost the will to fight, to live.

Suddenly I hear a soft clunking sound, followed by a strange rustling. Curiosity raises my head. There…a few feet away from me is a small bottle attached to a parachute.

A gift from a sponsor? For me? Now?

I scoot my way over and pick up the bottle to find a small note attached. I unfold it and read:

"_Hang in there, Boy. K.'s still waiting for you to come home."_

I inhale sharply. _Katniss_. How could I have forgotten? But how…

I never told Haymitch about her. He would have seen that silly conversation I had with Rue, of course, but I never gave a name.

Or did I? I've been lost in a world of illusions and dreams—isn't it possible, even likely, that at some point I had said her name without realizing it?

_Oh, Katniss. I'm sorry_. I know she's going to hate the attention that's going to bring on her.

So does this mean Haymitch has spoken to her? Did she tell him she was waiting for me? Surely not. That's a conversation that's entirely too bizarre to imagine. He must just be bluffing, assuming.

It doesn't matter, though, I realize. The note has done its job—she's the reason I've made it this far, and she's the reason I need to keep going.

I quickly examine the glass bottle the note had been attached to. It's tiny, and all it contains is some sort of clear liquid. I have no idea what it is or what it will do, but I have to trust Haymitch. I quickly open it and pour the liquid down my throat.

It doesn't do much—I know that this late in the Games gifts are a hundred times more expensive than they are at the beginning, and I know my sponsors are probably few and far between. Either this is all Haymitch could afford, or else he's saving up in case I need something more substantial later on.

It's enough, though. The liquid warms me from the inside, and while it doesn't erase my pain, it certainly numbs it quite a bit. I feel a renewed strength and vigor, and my head feels clear. I am overcome with a new sense of determination.

Food. First I need food, then sleep.

I get up and walk down the stream a ways to where Rue and I had set up a trap to catch fish, and sure enough, I see two medium-sized fish waiting for me, splashing around. I eat them raw, not wanting to waste energy building a fire.

While I eat, the seal of the Capitol suddenly shines in the sky, and the anthem blares out. I am given no new information. I still don't know if it's Cato, District Five, or both I'll be facing in the end. I hope it's just Cato—the girl has done nothing to me and I don't want to hurt her.

I will, though, if I have to. Katniss is waiting.


	5. Chapter 5

How in the world did this happen to me, of all people? One day I'm just this nobody outcast from the Seam, the next my face is plastered all over the television in every home and every town square in Panem. One day I'm a girl determined never to fall in love, the next I'm the heroine in "the romance that's sweeping the nation!"

Right now I'm sitting in Algebra class, staring determinedly at my desk. It's been four days since Peeta said my name, since that phone call from Haymitch Abernathy. The furor and excitement over the reveal has thankfully settled down a bit, but I still keep catching people looking and whispering, so I do my best to keep my eyes to myself. People keep asking me questions I don't know how to answer. It hasn't been the best week of my life, to say the least.

At least, though, Peeta is alive and awake—he finally came to permanently late yesterday. Watching him dealing with his physical pain and the loss of Rue was hard—I wished so badly that I, or anybody really, could have been there to comfort him. He seemed so alone, so broken. But then he had received that parachute with that note. The cameras hadn't been able to catch what it said, but whatever it was seemed to have given Peeta new life. Deep down I wonder if the note had something to do with me.

I glance up and see my face on the television again. Each classroom has one, and during the Games they are required to be on at all times in case something "interesting" starts to happen. The teachers keep them on mute so they can go on with lessons, but it's still distracting. Nothing much has been going on the past few days since two of the three remaining Tributes were unconscious, so they've been running and re-running my interview time and again.

That damned interview. I had tried my best, and I think I come off as a complete idiot. Apparently, though, the Capitol people are thrilled with me. I wonder what Haymitch thinks. He and I hadn't exactly hit it off during that phone call…

"…_.we need to talk."_

"_What about?"_

"_About bringing the boy home alive."_

"_I don't understand."_

"_Oh, come on, Sweetheart. Everybody knows it was you. So are you going to help me or not?"_

"_Of course I'll do anything I can do to help Peeta, but I don't see what…"_

"_What are you planning to say when the cameras show up tomorrow?" he interrupts me._

"_I don't know."_

"_Well, I'll tell you then…you are madly in love with the boy, do you understand?"_

"_What? That's…I don't…" I stumble._

"_Eloquent, aren't you? Look, Sweetheart, I don't give a damn about what has or has not happened between you two, or about what you do or not feel for him. Unless you're a completely heartless bitch, which I assume you're not, you're going to want to help him survive. If he's going to survive, he needs sponsors. And to get sponsors, we need a love story. The sponsors can't resist a good love story."_

_I close my eyes and sigh. I see where he's going with this, but I'm not sure I'm the right person for the job. I hate it, but what choice do I have?_

"_Okay, tell me what to say."_

"_Tell them you love him, but you never got the chance to tell him. It's the biggest regret of your life, and all you want is another chance. Make them want to help him win so everybody can watch a big sappy romantic reunion when you meet him at the train station. Think you can do that?"_

"_I don't know. I'll try. I'm not very good with words."_

"_I noticed."_

"_Hey!" I snap. "I said I'll try, okay? I wasn't exactly ready for this."_

"_Nobody ever is, Sweetheart. But the boy's life is on the line, so suck it up."_

_I grip the phone hard, swallowing the invectives that want to pour from my lips._

"_Fine," I mutter, my teeth gritted._

"_Listen," Haymitch says. "You'll do okay. You're not so great with words like you said, but you don't really have to say much—the audience will be dying to fill in the blanks for you. Just be shy and sweet. Basically, just act completely opposite of what you apparently actually are."_

_I give a bitter laugh._

"_You're a real charmer, aren't you?"_

"_Right back at you, Sweetheart. So are you going to help us out or not?"_

"_I've said yes like three times now," I say impatiently._

"_Good," he says. "Wear something pretty, okay? And one more thing."_

"_What?"_

"_Welcome to the team."_

_And then he hung up on me._

Sitting here now, remembering, I roll my eyes and wonder what Peeta thinks of Haymitch. I try not to judge him too harshly, though—at least he sounded relatively sober on the phone, and he seems to be making a real attempt to help Peeta. Like he said, we're on the same team now.

I look back up to the screen again. Thankfully, my face is gone now, replaced by a split-screen shot showing Cato, Farrah, and Peeta. They all seem to be making preparations for a fight—organizing weapons, eating, packing up their supplies. They must know, just as we do, that the Games can't stay so uneventful for much longer. The Gamemakers are going to force a confrontation, and they're going to do it soon.

The end will probably come tonight, and all eyes are going to be on me when it does. I've been "Invited" to come watch in the town square, with a seat of honor down in front. The cameras will have perfect access to film my reaction to whatever happens. The Capitol does like its drama.

After Algebra is lunch and I make my way over to my usual table and sit down across from my friend Madge Undersee. She has been blessedly silent on the topic of Peeta and the Hunger Games over the last few days, for which I will be forever grateful. But today she must see something on my face that makes her reach out.

"It's going to be okay, Katniss," she says, gripping my hand tightly. "At least…one way or another, it's all going to be over soon, right?"

I nod, fighting back the tears her kindness has elicited.

One way or another.

* * *

I'm running. Running fast than I ever knew was possible. Running for my life.

The mutts are close behind me, practically nipping at my heels. I get the sense that they could catch me if they really wanted to, but that's not their job. I'm being herded—chased into confrontation with the other Tributes, and there's nothing I can do about it but run.

Blood is pulsing in my ears, my heart pounding in my chest. Sweat pours down my face and soaks my shirt. Leaves and branches slap against me as I careen through the forest. Miraculously, I don't trip or fall—it's as though I'm going so fast my feet aren't touching the ground long enough to catch on any branches or roots.

I don't know how much longer I can last at this pace. I'm built for strength, not stamina.

Just as this thought crosses my mind, I burst out onto the open plain where the Games began and are apparently going to end. The Cornucopia gleams in the moonlight just ahead, beckoning me. If I can just make it there, maybe…

I put on one last burst of speed, pushing my wasted body to its final limit.

I'm halfway there when out of the corner of my eye I see another Tribute—Cato—shoot out of the forest, another pair of wolf-like muttations flat on his heels. He, too, is heading for the safety of the Cornucopia. I have to get there first. I can't let him get the high ground…

I have a head start, but Cato's faster than I am. He's merely yards away when I hit the golden metal of the Cornucopia. He disappears on the other side and I know he'll be trying to get up over there. I fly up, scrambling for any foot and handhold I can find on the slippery surface. Just as one of the mutts leaps up, I pull myself over the top, pulling my legs just out of the reach of its snapping jaws.

I quickly scoot backwards towards the lip of the Cornucopia, the highest point within my reach. Cato breaches the top moments later. He stays on his knees, a few feet below me. We are both gasping and retching, desperate for air, completely winded by the chase. The wolves, which have multiplied in number, are swarming around and around the base of the Cornucopia, looking for a way up.

Suddenly a scream rips through the air, drowning out the snarls and yelping of the mutts. I look over just in time to see the red-headed girl from District Five knocked down from behind by a giant wolf as she runs towards us. It happens in mere seconds—the moment she hits the ground, they're upon her. I turn away, squeezing my eyes shut, not willing to watch. There's one more blood-curdling scream, then the sound of a cannon.

It's just me and Cato, now.

I open my eyes and see him looking at me, the same thought in his mind.

We both scramble to our feet, staring at each other.

"Let's do this," he snarls, and I brace myself.

I lost my spear early on in my run from the mutts, and as far as I can tell Cato has no visible weapon, either. That's to my advantage, I think. I've pinned him before—maybe I can do it again.

Cato doesn't waste any time. Before I'm really ready for it he launches himself at me. I push to the side at the last moment, hoping his own momentum will send him over the lip of the Cornucopia, but no such luck. He hits me low, grabbing my left leg and throwing me back so that my head and shoulders are hanging over the edge. We struggle for control, and I can hear the wolves below, leaping up and snapping at my head. They are fearfully close and I swear I can feel the heat of their breath on the back of my neck.

Cato gets his hand under my chin and starts forcing my head back and down. I pretend to fight against him with all my might, keeping his focus while my right hand travels down my leg to grab the knife hidden in the picket there. I make sure of my grip, and then without giving myself time to think, I yank my arm back and then slam it back down, aiming for the center of his back. Instead of meeting soft flesh, my knife hits something hard and goes skittering across his back. It slips out of my hand and back down the slope of the Cornucopia.

What the…? Body armor? How did he…?

Fortunately, my failed attempt to stab Cato does at least serve to distract him just long enough. He reaches back to stop the knife he thinks is still in my hand, and I seize the opportunity to throw myself forward, forcing his weight off of me.

Then we're both rolling back down the Cornucopia, struggling for dominance. We are fairly evenly matched in natural strength and skill, I think, but my body is weak. Cato, unlike me, has had access to plenty of food and supplies during these Games, and it's going to take every ounce of strength I have left, every dirty trick my brothers ever taught me, every bit of determination I can muster.

_Katniss. Remember Katniss_.

Suddenly I have the upper hand. Somehow I have managed to get Cato in a headlock. He's still struggling but I hang on. One tug to the side and his neck will be broken. I'll go home.

I hesitate.

That one moment of hesitation costs me dearly.

I yell as my own knife slices through my thigh, cutting deep. I drop Cato in my shock and pain and then he's on top of me again, the knife at my throat. I use both hands to try to push the knife away, but he's just too strong. We're both panting as the knife inches closer to my neck. I've got to do something, think of _something_.

Ignoring the flare of pain in my thigh, I quickly bend my knees and brace my feet against Cato's body. Then I use everything I have to push him up and over me. The move works even better than I thought it would—Cato goes screaming over my head and the edge of the Cornucopia, dragging me with him. Together we fall towards the mutts waiting below. At the last second I manage to find a grip on one of the ridges in the side of the Cornucopia, barely stopping my descent.

Cato is not so lucky—he hits the ground and the wolf-like muttations are on him immediately, dragging him off. His cries of pain are gut-wrenching, but there's nothing I can do. I'm barely hanging on—I've got to get myself back up top, and this time I'll have to do it with one useless leg.

As I inch my way up, there are still two wolves below, just waiting for me to fall. I'm pretty sure I'm out of their reach, but I find out I'm wrong just as I'm about to pull my legs over the top—there is a sudden, searing pain in my calf as one of the mutts manages to reach me with a giant leap. Its teeth sink into my already injured leg, and then it falls backward again, its weight dragging me back down.

Somehow I manage to hang on. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I finally scramble to the top of the Cornucopia. I lay there on my back, gasping for breath. Cato is still screaming. How is he not dead yet? It took the mutts about five seconds to finish off District Five, so how? Then I remember the body armor. It's going to give him just enough protection to ensure his death will be long and drawn out and as painful as possible.

I sit up to assess the damage to my leg and immediately I know it's bad. Really bad. That mutt literally took a chunk out of my calf, leaving nothing but a bloody, pulpy mess. The knife, courtesy of Cato, has cut me to the bone. In the moonlight I can see a river of my blood streaming down the Cornucopia, and I am already starting to feel weak from blood loss.

So now it's just a waiting game between me and Cato, to see which one of us can hold out the longest. I lay back, squeezing my eyes shut, and attempt to block out the painful cries coming from below.

I muster up an image of Katniss in my mind and try to hang on.

* * *

**Hey all! Sorry my updates have been a little slow lately. Some evil person gave me a copy of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ and I've been barely able to do anything but read those damn books for like the last week. I have no idea why they're so addictive—they're pretty bad, really, and it's going to send a horrible message to a lot of young girls and women. Ladies, if you think your love is going to be able to heal a "broken" man, 99.9% of the time you're going to be wrong, and the attempt is going to bring you nothing but heartbreak at best. Voice of experience talking here. But I digress—I have finished the books and so my updates should start coming more quickly from now on.**

**I owe several of you PMs…Will be working on that!**

**As always thank you muchly for all the reviews, etc. I'm thrilled that so many people are enjoying this story.**


	6. Chapter 6

_Oh god, Peeta. Please don't give up. Please. You have to come home to me. Please._

* * *

Cato is still calling for help, but there's nothing I can do. I have no weapons and no strength to use them if I did. All I can do is lie here and listen to his pitiful cries and moans as I lose more and more blood, coming closer to death with each breath I take.

Adding to my misery, a bitter cold wind is now blowing through the arena. I'm sure it's Gamemaker intervention, but it doesn't really matter what's causing it—all that matters is my aching, trembling body. Every movement sends a shot of pain coursing down my leg. I curl up into a ball in an attempt to retain any warmth that might remain in my body.

I try to think of Katniss, of home, of my brothers. I try to put myself back in the warm kitchen of the bakery, surrounded by delicious smells and my father's easy laughter. None of it lasts for more than a few seconds—my mind is confused, my body weak. I'm dying.

I turn my face to the night sky. Above me shine millions of bright stars and a luminous moon. I wonder if any of it's real, or if it's just a projection of the arena. It doesn't really matter, though. It's a beautiful sight—my last, I am sure. I would have preferred Katniss' face, but this will have to do.

Cato's voice pounds in my ears. I know, if by some miracle I survive this, that voice will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.

I'm fading now—all I want to do is sleep. Sleep would be so wonderful—an escape from the pain and the cold, the horror of Cato's slow, agonizing death. But I can't. I know if I sleep, I will never wake up again. I must stay awake. I must live. Katniss is waiting.

Something drifts into my view, blocking out the stars. What is it? What have the Gamemakers sent to worsen my torment now? Whatever it is, I can do nothing to escape it. Then my brain connects with what my eyes are seeing, and I realize it's a parachute. It slowly drifts down and lands right beside me.

I can't believe it. How in the world did Haymitch manage to send me something this late in the game?

I drag myself into a seated position and grab the small box attached to the parachute. I open it to find a long canvas strap with a buckle on one end. I look at in confusion—what am I supposed to do with this? I had been hoping for medicine for my leg, or maybe a nice thick blanket at the very least.

I check the box—no note this time. I'm on my own. My brain is moving at a snail's pace.

When the answer finally comes to me, I can't believe it took me so long. It's a tourniquet—a way to stop the steady stream of blood from my leg that is slowly draining the life out of me.

I move quickly, wrapping the strap around my leg and pulling it as tight as I can stand it. The flow of blood slows almost instantly—this gift has probably saved my life. Now when I shudder it's from relief.

Making use of every resource at hand, I take the parachute and wrap it around my shoulders. It's thin and doesn't add much protection from the cold, but at least it's something.

I lay back down to stare at the stars again. Almost instantly my eyes start to droop, and this time I don't fight it. I fall into sleep, where I dream of wolves and blood. And Katniss.

It's a long time before I wake.

* * *

For an indeterminate amount of time I drift in and out of consciousness. I see bright lights, and hear loud, commanding voices. I feel pain, and then a slow, pleasant drifting sensation before the darkness takes me again.

When I finally wake up, the first thing I see is Haymitch sitting next to my hospital bed.

"Welcome back, boy," he says in his usual gruff manner.

"Haymitch," I rasp out. My voice is weak, my throat parched. He quickly pours me some water from the pitcher on my bedside table. He holds the glass while I sip through a straw. Never have I tasted anything so cool and refreshing—never again will I take clean, cold water for granted. After, my voice is clearer, stronger.

"Did I win?"

"Wouldn't be here talking to me if you hadn't," Haymitch smiles.

I won. I'm alive. I'm going home!

"How long has it been?" I ask.

"Three days."

Wow. I've been sleeping for three days. It didn't seem that long. Was I really that sick? I feel pretty okay now. Then I remember my leg. I try to sit up to see it, but there's a strap across my chest, restricting my movement.

"Haymitch? Why am I strapped down?"

"Something I need to tell you, boy."

Something about his tone brings fear creeping into my chest. "What is it?" I ask.

"No easy way to say it, I guess, so I'm just going to say it. By the time Cato finally died and they got you out of there, it was too late to save your leg. They had to amputate, just below the knee. I'm sorry, Peeta."

For some reason the only thing that registers at first is that Haymitch used my name. I don't think I've ever heard him say it before—it's always been "boy." Then the rest of it sinks in. My leg. Is gone. I'm a cripple! No!

"No!" I cry aloud, struggling against my restraints. "No!" It's the only thing I can articulate. This can't be happening.

"Calm down," says Haymitch, placing his hand on my arm.

"No! My leg…I have to…"

"Calm down!" he says more forcefully. "Listen to me!"

Something in his voice stops me.

"Don't you dare go feeling sorry for yourself, boy," he snaps. "So you lost a leg. Big deal. Not like you're not going to walk again. They'll give you a nice, shiny new one to replace it."

"But…" I sputter. I can't believe he's being so harsh, so unfeeling, even if he _is_ Haymitch.

"Don't. You're alive, and that's all that matters. You're going home, which is more than any of those other kids can say. Don't you think any one of them would give _their_ right leg to be alive right now?"

I realize immediately that he's right. I can't dwell on this. My leg is a small price to pay for the rest of my life. It could have been so much worse.

"Okay," I whisper, nodding, accepting. "Okay, you're right."

Haymitch sits back in his chair, visibly relieved.

"Can you unstrap me now?" I ask. "I promise I won't become unhinged."

He chuckles and agrees to help me. A moment later I'm sitting up in bed, staring at the stump that is all that's left of my right shin. It's not quite as grotesque as I had thought it would be, but it's still not a pretty sight. I can't help wondering what Katniss will think. Will she be disgusted? Repelled? I can't bear the thought.

I pull the sheet back over my leg. I'll deal with it later. For now, I have so many questions.

"How did you know about Katniss, Haymitch? Did you talk to her? Does anybody else know? And how did you afford that tourniquet? It must have cost a small fortune. And what happened to Rue? I was out of it when she…"

"Calm down, boy. We'll have plenty of time to talk once you're rested up a little more. Aren't you hungry?"

Reluctantly, I give in and agree to wait for answers. For a little while, anyway.

* * *

Haymitch manages to avoid me for the rest of the day. The doctors spend a long time with me, checking me over and teaching me how to use my new prosthetic leg. They refuse to talk to me about the games, though—it's all business with them. It's not until later that afternoon, when my prep team gets ahold of me to prepare me for the crowning ceremony that night that I get my answers.

"There he is!" cries Aurelia as she comes to my room in the Training Center.

"All hail the conquering hero!" Livia joins in, following just behind.

I smile indulgently. Aurelia and Livia are idiots, but they mean well.

Quintas, who is worse than the other two combined, comes through the door and engulfs me in a gigantic hug. He's actually crying with joy. Crying!

"Oh, Peeta!" he says. "I'm sorry, I'm just so happy for you and Katniss! It's so romantic, my heart just can barely take it!"

"Um, what?" Did he just say Katniss? Romantic? What?

"Hasn't anybody told you?" asks Livia.

"Told me what?"

"About Katniss!" Quintas answers.

"What about Katniss?"

"Oh my god. He doesn't know!" Quintas squeals to the other two.

"I can't believe it!" breathes Aurelia, her eyes wide.

"Will somebody please tell me what you're talking about?" I ask, getting frustrated. What do they know about Katniss that I don't?

Quintas draws himself up, takes a deep breath, and declares in the most dramatic way possible: "Peeta, Katniss Everdeen is in love with you!"

"What?" This is the most bizarre conversation I've ever had with them, and that's saying a lot, believe me. "What do you mean, she's in love with me?"

"I mean she's in love with you, silly boy!" Quintas giggles. "She told _everybody_. When you said her name right before you passed out, I just about died, oh my god it was so obvious you were so in love, and of course they went to interview her and she told everybody how much she loves you and misses you and oh! It's so romantic!"

"She's such a pretty girl," chimes in Livia. "It's no wonder you fell in love with her! But oh, how I wish I could get my hands on her eyebrows…what I could do with just a pair of tweezers…"

"Aurelia," I turn to the girl who I've judged to be the sanest of the three. "Is this true? Katniss said she loved me?"

Aurelia is smiling at me, nodding. "She did, Peeta."

I can't believe it. I can't _believe_ it!

"How do you think you got that tourniquet, honey?" asks Quintas. "Everybody just _adores _you…couldn't wait to get you two lovebirds back together. And we're all going to get to see you reunited with her!"

Reunited. With Katniss. Who _loves_ me! It's almost too much. I sink down into my chair.

The prep team is still babbling around me as they start their work, trimming my nails, treating my skin, yanking out undesirable hair, but I no longer hear a word they're saying. All I can think of is Katniss, and that she loves me, and that I'm going to see her soon.

I can't control the smile that stretches across my face.

* * *

The euphoria of my prep team's revelation carries me all the way up to the beginning of the crowning ceremony. I find myself back on stage, joking back and forth with Caesar like we're old friends, while the crowd laughs and yells encouragingly. Caesar asks me if there's anything I want to say to Katniss, but I decline, explaining that anything I have to say to Katniss is something that should be said in private. The audience oohs and ahhs at this, and I'm grateful they're satisfied with that non-answer.

Then the recap begins, and my mood declines considerably. I haven't been allowing myself to think about this since I woke up, but the fact is that twenty three kids had to die for me to be sitting here. Now, watching it all play out again on the giant screen, it's impossible to escape. I look away as much as possible and damn their rules. I lived it; I shouldn't have to watch it.

Now I finally know exactly how Rue died. I'm grateful it was so quick, but that doesn't really make it any easier. I have to fight back tears as I watched her body lifted away by the hovercraft. Then there I am on screen again, whispering Katniss' name as I fall, knocked out by the Tracker Jackers' venom.

Then, suddenly, I'm looking at Katniss' face. I gasp. This must be the interview my prep team was talking about.

I can barely absorb what I'm seeing—she looks beautiful, as always. She's wearing the same blue dress she wore on the day of the Reaping, but her hair is down out of her usual braid, cascading in loose waves over her shoulders. She's smiling shyly.

She's talking about me. Saying all kinds of wonderful things that should be making my heart soar. Saying she loves me. Saying she misses me. Saying her only wish is for me to come home to her so she can tell me how she feels. If I die, she doesn't know how she'll live without me.

It should all make me ecstatically happy, but it doesn't.

I know Katniss, and that wasn't her. Katniss is sharp and strong and sarcastic. She's not that bashful, sweet girl I just saw up on the screen. The Katniss I know would never talk so openly about her feelings in front of anybody, let alone the entire nation of Panem. Not that way. Not gushing and simpering about it. This is not how I had imagined it.

The sighs of the crowd remind me I'm still on stage, on camera. I force a smile back on my face. I'm madly in love, right?

The rest of the recap thankfully passes by in a blur…my near break-down, District Five's death, the showdown on the Cornucopia…it all seems unreal. Then it's over, and President Snow is there to place the Victor's crown on my head. The roar of the crowd is deafening.

Finally, I'm being shuffled off stage. I find myself alone in an elevator with Haymitch.

I turn to him.

"You told her what to say, didn't you?" I ask.

He looks at me.

"Yes," he answers honestly and simply.

I nod and look down, all my hopes shattered.


	7. Author's Note

I know, I know…I hate it too when authors "update" their stories with nothing but an author's note, but I've gotten so many reviews and PMs I felt I really needed to explain to everyone at once why I haven't updated this story.

Simply, I've been sick. I was traveling for a bit and was going to update as soon as I got back, but then I got a cold that kept getting worse…then I was in pain…ended up in the ER…long story short, I have mono (which I'm too old for) and shingles (which I'm too young for!) Unfortunately, the mono infection decided to settle in my inner ear and so I've had really bad vertigo for over three weeks now. It messes with my eyes so I can't read or write or even watch TV really, without getting a headache. (Already hurting from writing just this much.) Needless to say, it SUCKS! I am a voracious reader and to not be able to at least read is killing me. I've just been sleeping and listening to music, mostly.

Anyway, all this to say don't worry…I have NOT forgotten or abandoned this fic. Give me a couple of weeks, hopefully by then I'll be able to write again. What stinks is the next chapter is about 90% written, but there's just no way for me to finish it and then go through the editing process right now. My creative juices aren't flowing!

Sorry, you guys, but as always thanks for all the reviews and everything, especially to those of you who were worried about me. I'll be fine, just gotta get through this.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: It's been awhile, so to remind you where we left off:**

**Peeta has won the Hunger Games, and for a few hours is delighted that Katniss revealed in her interview that she loves him, too. But during the crowning ceremony, they show a recap of the interview and Peeta realizes that Katniss was just acting and that Haymitch had told her what to say. Back in District Twelve, Katniss had to "fake" her performance for the interview just because she was trying to please the Capitol audience, not because she didn't actually really feel that way.**

* * *

"Look, boy…just because I gave her a few hints on how to work the interview doesn't mean anything," says Haymitch.

"Right," I answer, still looking at the floor of the elevator.

"She saved your life. There's no way I could have gotten that tourniquet to you if the sponsors hadn't fallen in love with her and wanted to see you two back together. And you said yourself she kissed you. That must mean something…"

He's cut off by the chime when the elevator reaches our floor at the top of the Training Center.

"Maybe," I answer and quickly make my escape. I head for my room and shut the door firmly behind me. I need to be alone right now.

I feel like such a fool. Somehow I managed to take one little pity kiss from Katniss and blow it up into this big romantic drama. But it was only ever in my head—of course she doesn't love me. She doesn't even know me. In fact, by now she probably even hates me. Katniss is not the kind of girl who enjoys being the center of attention and by talking about her in the arena, all I did was the focus the spotlight of the Capitol directly on her. Her life has probably been miserable ever since, and _I _did that to her. I wonder if she'll ever forgive me.

I lay down on my bed, not bothering with my clothes.

I try to think about that kiss—how it had made me feel like there _was_ something between us. But it was too long ago and too much has happened since then. I've changed, and I can't remember what it felt like to kiss her, or to hold her in my arms. Not really.

I realize with horror that it's not even over yet. I still have the final interview with Caesar Flickerman in the morning, and then the cameras will be there when the train arrives in District Twelve the next day. Just like Haymitch said, they're going to want a big romantic reunion between me and Katniss. And then…my heart sinks even further. And then comes the Victory Tour. And mentoring for the District Twelve tributes every year for the rest of my life. I'm not so naïve as to think the Capitol won't demand a happy ending to our great romance. Will Katniss have to pretend for the rest of her life?

What have I gotten us into?

I roll over and bury my face in the pillows. For the first time, I almost wish I hadn't won.

* * *

He's coming home. _He's coming home!_

The whole District is celebrating and preparing for Peeta's arrival tomorrow. His victory means luck for everyone—the Capitol will shower us with gifts (mostly food) for the rest of the year. Fewer children will starve this winter, thanks to Peeta. Nearly everyone is walking around with huge smiles on their faces.

My emotions are all over the place. Of course I'm happy Peeta's coming home. I'm thrilled, in fact. And terrified, and excited, and anxious. It would be bad enough if it was just me and Peeta meeting for the first time after everything that's happened, but I know nearly everyone in Panem will be watching. I have no idea what to say to him. Last night during the recap he saw that ridiculous interview I gave, but I couldn't tell really what he thought of it—it was like his face was frozen in that huge, charming smile he has. I think maybe he wanted to laugh—I _was_ pretty idiotic declaring my undying love for him like that.

I'm just so bad at things like that—talking about emotions and feelings with anyone besides Prim. For some reason, I have no trouble showing my affection to her, but that's a side of me that no one else gets to see. Now they're going to stick me in front of a bunch of cameras and a huge crowd of people and expect me to let everything show. It angers me and embarrasses me all at the same time. What right do they have to see what should be such a private moment? And what if I get it wrong? What will they do to me and Peeta? To the people of our District?

I mustn't fail.

* * *

This is it—the train is due any minute. I'm standing here at the station, wearing my best blue dress yet again. I'm standing between Peeta's family and my own, trying not to fidget.

Peeta's father has been his usual kind but quiet self. During the celebratory chaos in the town square after Peeta's victory, he had made a point to detach himself from the rest of the crowd to approach me. To my shock, he had engulfed me in a giant hug.

"Thank you," he had whispered in my ear. "For my son's life."

I had been speechless, simply nodding at him in response.

Much less shocking is the glare Peeta's mother is currently shooting me over her husband's shoulder. She obviously hates being in the debt of a Seam brat like me. Or maybe she just hates that her son hadn't chosen to bestow his affections on a perfect blonde-haired girl from the merchant class. Whatever it was, I know she will never like me, and never mind that I helped save his life. I wonder how much that will matter to Peeta.

Now she's doing all she can to ignore me. The Baker is standing between us, and he is a large enough man to hide me from her sight. On her other side stand Peeta's two older brothers, who had both introduced themselves formally with grins that reminded me painfully of Peeta. The middle one, Seth, had even shot me a saucy wink, and then had laughed when I blushed. At least _they_ seem to like me.

Prim stands on my left, holding hands with our mother. The Hawthornes are somewhere back in the huge crowd that has gathered to welcome Peeta home. It seems all of District Twelve, aside from those on shift in the mines, is here. Gale is one of those in the mines. He had insisted to me that he couldn't get out of it—as one of the newest employees he always had to take the shifts no one else wanted, he had explained. But as I look over my shoulder I spy Thom, one of Gale's coworkers who started at the same time Gale did. I frown—it looks like maybe Gale could have come after all, if he had really wanted to.

I have no time to think about it, though, as we all hear the distant rumble of the approaching train. The crowd erupts into applause before the train is even in sight, and as it pulls into the station the cheers become deafening. I am frozen—I am not ready for this. I know I have a smile on my face, but it is completely for the cameras. In reality, I feel as though I might be sick at any moment.

The train pulls to a stop and there is a short pause before Effie Trinket steps out. I notice that the level of applause drastically lowers—Effie is not well liked here. Haymitch appears in the door next and the crowd goes wild. Our people love Haymitch, despite (or maybe because of) all his drunken, loutish ways. Simply put, he is one of us. Despite the sober tone I had detected on the phone, it seems Haymitch has gone back to the bottle now that the Games are over. He lurches off the train and takes two stumbling steps before falling flat on his face. The crowd roars with laughter as Effie and Mayor Undersee try to get him to his feet.

I am grateful to Haymitch—with all the cameras trained on him I allow my face to relax for a moment and take a deep, shuddering breath. Prim, my always sweet sister, puts her arm around my waist and gives me a reassuring squeeze.

In all of the chaos, I am the only one who notices Peeta. He's standing back from the steps off the train, hidden in the shadows. But I am close enough to see. His eyes meet mine, and I immediately know something is wrong. His face is blank, with no smile or twinkle in his eyes to greet me—only an empty mask. This is not the Peeta I know. I feel my own smile slip as I look at him.

Then Haymitch, who has apparently found his footing, bellows, "Peeta! Get out here, boy!"

Automatically a bright smile lights up Peeta's face as he steps down off the train, but I know now it's not real. The crowd roars as Peeta walks straight to me, takes me in his arms, and kisses me. This kiss is nothing like the kiss we had once shared—it is stiff and formal and insincere. The crowd screams its approval, so I guess we're fooling them. But I am not fooled—something in Peeta has changed since the day I said goodbye to him.

He breaks the kiss and whispers in my ear, "I'm sorry."

Before I can think of a response, he gives me another long kiss. Then I am left to try to cover my confusion as he moves away to greet the rest of his family. I fight to keep a smile on my face, remembering the cameras still pointed at me. Hopefully everyone watching will assume I'm simply flustered by Peeta's kiss. The love story must stay intact.

I'm afraid now that's all it is—a fabricated story. Because from what I can tell, Peeta doesn't love me anymore.

* * *

**AN: There's no way I can adequately express my gratitude for all the kind reviews and PMs from people wishing me well after my illness, so I'm not really going to try. Just know that each and every one really meant a lot, and I defintely don't take any of it for granted!**

**My health is completely back, and so is my creative inspiration! The next chapter to this story is already well underway, so there won't be another long gap before another update, I promise!**


	9. Chapter 9

The rest of that afternoon and evening is nothing short of pure torture. After the short welcoming ceremony at the train station, there is a formal banquet that drags on and on as every person of any importance whatsoever in District Twelve makes a speech as we all dine on more food than I've ever seen in my lifetime, and then finally, as the sun is going down, the Capitol officials present Peeta and his family with his new house in the Victor's Village. Throughout all of this, I want nothing more than to go home, bury my face in the pillow, and cry.

The cameras follow us wherever we go, and Peeta never once lets go of my hand as we walk from place to place. He sits by my side at the banquet, and at one point we even have a dance together. Only one, though, because he claims his leg is giving him trouble. Never, not once, do we have anything other than the most superficial conversation with each other. Isn't the weather beautiful. Isn't the food delicious. Doesn't everyone look nice all dressed up. Never have I felt so distant from someone who was so physically close. It's a very lonely feeling.

I suppose it was foolish of me to expect Peeta would come home from the Games unchanged. I didn't really expect that, did I? Of course going through something like that would change a person. Especially a person so pure of heart like Peeta. I can't even imagine what all he's lived through. I think I knew he would be different, but I didn't expect his feelings for me to have changed. Like I said, foolish.

On the outside Peeta is unchanged—he is as cheerful and jovial as always. His speech at the banquet makes everyone laugh, and then it makes them cry. He charms everyone who comes up to personally congratulate him, the smile never leaving his face. But there is something missing from his eyes—the old sparkle, the hint of laughter that used to linger there. I can see it, even if nobody else can. It breaks my heart.

Finally, _finally_, the cameras are turned off. It's fully dark now, and we have just finished taking an extensive tour of Peeta's new house. Despite myself, I am in awe. My own house in the Seam could fit into Peeta's living room, and he has a large kitchen, a study, three bedrooms, and two indoor-plumbing bathrooms besides. The only other place I've seen with such luxury is at Madge Undersee's house, and her father is the mayor.

"I think we've got everything we need," announces one of the cameramen, lowering the camera down from his shoulder.

We're all gathered in the living room—by now it's just me and Peeta, his family, Haymitch, Effie and the Capitol television crew.

"Thank god," says Haymitch and throws back yet another drink. Honestly, at this point I'm amazed he's still standing upright.

Peeta immediately releases my hand, and I'm left feeling even more bereft than before.

There is a small bustle as the crew starts packing up their equipment, Peeta's brothers depart for the kitchen and the piles of food waiting there, and Haymitch collapses on the couch with a large belch.

"Haymitch! Honestly!" Effie cries, affronted.

Haymitch answers her with another rude noise, and Effie stalks off in high dudgeon. You'd think she'd be used to him by now.

Peeta turns to me and says, "It's getting late. You must be tired."

He's dismissing me.

"Oh, yeah," I stumble. "I guess I should get going."

He nods.

"We'll talk soon, okay?" he says, but he won't meet my eyes.

"All right," I say softly, and turn to go. I make my exit quickly without saying goodbye to anyone. I don't want to let them see the tears that are finally breaking free.

* * *

Later that night, I am lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

I am so confused.

Why does Peeta no longer love me? What exactly had happened to him that I didn't know about? Had I done something? Or failed to do something?

Or…and this thought horrifies me beyond measure…had none of it been true to begin with? Was it possible that this had all been some elaborate plan of Peeta's from the beginning? No. It couldn't be. Could it? Is it possible that the Peeta that I thought I knew existed only in my mind? That kiss…it had to be real. Didn't it?

No. No, I can't believe it. I won't believe it. Because if that's true, then that means he's played me for an utter fool.

But it doesn't make sense—if it was all just a ruse, why not just tell me? I would have gone along to save his life. I would have done that for just about anybody, but especially for Peeta, seeing as I owed him my own life and all. But why choose _me_? Why not a girl he was already friends with? Someone who would have been much better on camera than I was…

I am so confused, and now I'm starting to get angry. Who does he think he is, to tell me he loves me, to kiss me like that? To make me fall in love with him, and then to come home and pretend like none of it had ever happened, like none of it mattered?

He tricked me into making myself vulnerable, and then he hurt me. I had thought I could trust him. I thought he was a good guy.

He owes me an explanation, and I am not going to wait a second longer to get it. I have been waiting to talk—to really _talk_—to him for almost a month now. I am done waiting.

Quietly I climb out of bed, careful not to wake Prim. I get dressed, slip out the front door, and head towards Victor's Village. My anger carries me quickly back through the dark and quiet District, and before I know it, I am standing in front of Peeta's new house. I can't see any lights, and I suddenly realize it might not be the best idea to go barging into the house demanding answers in the middle of the night. I'm sure Peeta's mother, for one, would not be appreciative.

Maybe I can somehow figure out which one is Peeta's bedroom. I could throw rocks at the window or something. I know I'm not going to be able to sleep until I've talked to him, and I'm not going home without at least trying.

I circle around to the back of the house. I'm not sure exactly what I'm looking for until I see a light shining out of a room on the lower level. It's the kitchen, I realize, and I creep over to peek through the screen door.

Sitting alone at the large kitchen table is Peeta. He looks utterly dejected—he's hunched over, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, and suddenly all my anger disappears.

* * *

I don't know how long I have been sitting here—maybe an hour or two, ever since my family said goodnight. Today has been one of the hardest days of my life, and I know there are many more like it to come in the approaching years. It is not a pleasant thought. I can't keep the vision of Katniss' face out of my mind. Everything between us today had been so _wrong_. I had tried to act naturally around her, to be casual and let her know I didn't expect anything, but I know I failed completely. And I hadn't been able to read her at all—her face, her expressions, which I used to be able to read so easily, had been a complete puzzle. Was she angry with me? Did she pity me? Had she figured out yet that we were in this for life? I couldn't tell.

"Peeta?" Her voice comes out of the darkness, startling me.

I quickly lift my head to see Katniss standing at the back door, a concerned look on her face as she watches me. I can't believe she's here. Why is she here? She couldn't wait until tomorrow to do this?

"Hi," I say.

"Can I come in? I wanted to talk to you."

"Of course," I answer automatically. "Have a seat," I say and gesture to the chair beside me. She shuts the screen door quietly behind me and slowly walks closer.

"Are you sure it's okay?" she asks as she sits down. "Your mom will flip if she finds me here this late."

"Don't worry," I assure her. "Everyone has gone home. Nobody else here but me."

"What do you mean they've gone home? Isn't your family going to live here with you?"

"Well, my mom and dad need to stay close to the bakery, for obvious reasons, and my oldest brother Jax is getting married in a few months, so it didn't make sense for him to move twice," I explain. "Seth decided to stay in town, too, since he works at the bakery and it's closer to school. So yeah, it's just me here."

I try to act like this doesn't bother me, but I can tell Katniss sees through my act. She looks at me with sympathy.

"Wow. All alone in this big house? Won't you get lonely?"

I shrug.

"Probably. To be honest, though, I'm not that bothered about getting away from my mother. She's so…well, you know what she's like."

Katniss just nods, avoiding my eyes. I'm pretty sure at that moment we're both remembering that day in the rain, and the mark my mother had left on my cheek as punishment for burning the bread. Suddenly the tension between us becomes too much for me to take.

"I know why you're here, Katniss."

It's abrupt, but right now all I want is to be left alone so I can go wallow in my misery. I want to get this over with.

"You do?" Katniss' eyebrows shoot up.

"Yes. You've come to let me down easy. It's okay, Katniss. Haymitch told me he gave you directions on what to say. I know you just did it to help me, so don't worry. Thanks for that, by the way."

Katniss doesn't say anything. I guess I've taken the wind out of her sails—she probably had a whole speech prepared, but I don't want to hear it.

"And I know I owe you an apology," I continue. "I never meant for you to get caught up in all this. I know it's been horrible with the cameras in your face all the time and having to pretend and everything. I didn't do it on purpose, I swear. And I'll think of a way to get you out of this. Maybe if enough time goes by…"

"Peeta," she interrupts me. "Stop."

I just look at her, wondering what she's going to say. Maybe she'll just leave, her purpose here complete. Maybe she thinks the room is bugged. Actually, it probably is, now that I think about it. I don't care, though. President Snow doesn't care if the romance is actually real; he only cares if the people believe it is.

For a minute, she doesn't say anything. Then,

"I…am confused," she admits slowly.

That, I wasn't expecting.

"What's confusing you?" I ask.

"You are," she says. "I thought you didn't…"

She stops again, and now she's not the only one who's confused. Suddenly she stands up from her chair and crosses the room. She leans up against the sink with her back turned to me and stares out the window. Several minutes pass in silence. I wait patiently—the hardest part of this conversation is over with, so I let her think about what she wants to say.

"Peeta?" she finally says without turning around. "If I ask you something, do you promise to tell me the truth?"

"Yes," I answer without hesitation.

"What you told me the day you went away…is it still true?"

She still won't turn to look at me.

I am stunned. She's asking me if I still love her. Why? Why does she want to put me through this again? Is my humiliation not complete? Does she want me to say no, just to spare her guilt?

I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to lie; not about this.

"Yes, it's still true," I answer, and for good measure I add, "It will always be true."

I see Katniss' shoulders relax, and she lets out a heavy breath. Finally, she turns back around. She looks happy. Happy?

"Peeta, I think there's been a misunderstanding," she says, smiling.

"A misunderstanding?"

"Yes. When Haymitch told you he coached me, well…that part is true. But Peeta, just because he told me what to say doesn't mean what I said wasn't true."

"Wait…what?" She doesn't mean what I think she means, does she? No…it couldn't be…

"The interview was fake, yes. But only because I couldn't go on there and act as myself. They would have hated me and it wouldn't have done you any good. And I was trying to help you, Peeta. But just because I acted like a simpering idiot and played to the audience it doesn't mean…my words were true, Peeta, even if the way I said it wasn't. Does that make sense?"

"Katniss…" I breathe, and suddenly I'm halfway across the room on my way to her, my heart in my throat. But then I stop.

"But wait…I don't understand. That day…you said you didn't…you don't know me."

Why am I still talking? Why am I not over there, kissing her? But I have to know…

"Yes, well…" Katniss is blushing now, looking down at her twisting hands. "A lot has changed since then."

"Like what?"

"Like I've realized that I did know you a bit from before, from school and stuff. And I watched you in the Games. I had to watch you almost die, several times. And…and you kissed me. That was a hell of a kiss, Peeta."

I grin.

"Technically, you started that kiss, you know."

_What the hell? Shut up, Mellark!_

But Katniss is looking at me again, and now she's got a smirk on her face.

"Maybe. But you certainly finished it, didn't you?"

"Actually, I think _that_ was the Peacekeepers. If it had been up to me, it would have never been finished."

Katniss lets out another shaky breath.

"Me too," she whispers.

The next thing I know I've closed the distance between us. I take Katniss in my arms and kiss her with everything I have. She responds eagerly, and for a while everything else disappears. Kissing Katniss is a hundred times better than I remember.

We end up sitting on the floor, leaning up against the cabinets with our legs tangled together and our arms entwined. Katniss rests her head on my shoulder.

"Thank you for coming home, Peeta," she says, low.

"Well," I laugh. "You did tell me to. What else was I supposed to do but obey?"

"You could have given up." Katniss refuses to joke with me. "I know—for someone like you—what you had to go through, what you had to do, the memories you'll have to live with—I can see how easy it would be to not want to win…"

"Shh…" I silence her. I don't want to think of these things right now. I'm happy in this moment and I don't ever want it to end. "It was worth it, Katniss. I'm just grateful to be alive, and to be here with you right now, just like this."

"Okay," she says and snuggles further into me.

I know these things will need to be dealt with—Rue, Cato's drawn-out death, the loss of my leg—it's all sure to bring nightmares. But Katniss will be there to help me through it. I may just escape Haymitch's fate, after all.

I gather my courage.

"Will you stay here with me tonight?" I ask.

Katniss lifts her head and gives me a look, her eyebrow raised.

"Not for _that_, Katniss," I say quickly. "I just don't want to be alone tonight. And I'm not ready to let go of you yet. I'll be good, I promise."

Katniss laughs.

"I'm just teasing you, Peeta. I would like to stay, but I'll need to get up really early to go home. I don't want Prim to worry."

"What about your mom? Will she be mad?"

Katniss just shrugs.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter."

I sense that this is a sensitive topic for her, but I don't push it. We have lots of time, now, to talk and get to know each other better. It can wait.

"Come on," I say, standing up and offering her my hand. "Let's go to bed. It's been a long, hard day."

Together we climb the stairs to my new bedroom. With Katniss here beside me, I know tomorrow will be better.

* * *

**AN: Eh, I'm not particularly happy with this, but it's late and I'm tipsy (Don't look at me like that. It _is_ Saturday night, after all! And the kids are at grandma's.)…so I'm just going to post it anyway. Thanks for all the reviews and support! And thanks for sticking in when I was incommunicado for so long—sorry about that!**


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